


Daral'Arla

by Katalyna_Rose



Series: Kahlia Mahariel [25]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Agents of Fen'Harel, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8722246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyna_Rose/pseuds/Katalyna_Rose
Summary: The Dread Wolf is awake at long last, and even the Dalish flock to his cause. Kahlia Mahariel, once of Clan Sabrae, is among those who choose to follow Fen'Harel. Zevran would never leave her side, and so he has joined the elven god's cause, as well. Kahlia shouldn't be as surprised as she is to find someone she knows among those who have to fight for their once-reviled trickster god.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in close conjunction with Vhenan. It is set before the start of events in Vhenan, but it is likely that readers who have not yet read my Solavellan stories and Vhenan will not understand what is happening. Thanks so much for your interest in my writing! Please go read a few chapters of Vhenan and then come back!

“It’s much smaller than I expected,” Kahlia muttered, unpacking her belongings into the rooms provided for herself and Zevran. He sighed but didn’t pretend to misunderstand her.

“My dear, he has been awake not half a year,” the Antivan assassin reminded her. “I expected this place to be in ruins, but clearly he’s had people restoring it for some time. This is only the beginning, my love.”

Kahlia scowled. “Too many of those here are Dalish, with little to no knowledge of the world beyond their clans,” she said. “That makes them nearly useless as agents.

Zevran sighed again. “Many are not here at the moment, I am sure,” he placated. Her scowl deepened. “Besides, we haven’t even had a tour yet. We have no idea what’s really here.” She had to concede the point on that, but she didn’t have to be graceful about it. Her scowl didn’t lift, though she said nothing more.

“They worked to unpack for a few minutes longer before Zevran sighed again. “Kahlia,” he said, his voice uncommonly serious. She stopped arranging clothes in their wardrobe and looked at him. He almost never used her name; it was too widely known, though she was believed dead. It wasn’t safe to use, so mostly they avoided it and he called her by varying endearments. She’d never admit it, but she liked the pet names he had for her. When Kahlia turned to him, he put his hands on her shoulders, moving slowly if she should need to pull away and reject the touch. She didn’t, and he gripped her more firmly.

“We can still leave,” he said softly, seriously. “If you aren’t sure about this, about him, it has been made clear that we are free to go if we choose. Bound to secrecy still, but free to leave.”

It was Kahlia’s turn to sigh. She stepped into Zevran’s embrace and wrapped her arms around his waist. After a moment’s hesitation, his arms settled around her. He was so careful with her still, and she loved him for it.

“No,” she sighed. “I’ve been going a bit mad with nothing to do but contracts from the Crows. A peaceful life of hunting and roaming was once something that I loved, but ever since I became a Grey Warden I simply can’t be so inactive. And I love my people. I want to see them restored. They deserve it, after all this time struggling to hold on to what we once were. I need to fight for them again, like I always did before The Pit.

“The shemlen think I faced the archdemon for them, to save all the peoples of Thedas in a thoroughly selfless act, but that’s not really true. When I plunged my sword in the dragon’s skull, my thoughts were on my clan and our Dalish allies, and all of my people, and you. I could see you out of the corner of my eye as I ripped the beast’s head in two. I wasn’t sure if Morrigan’s ritual would work, but I knew I had to do it anyway. I had to save my people, and I had to save you.”

Zevran stiffened in her arms, and she pulled her head back to look up several inches into his face. She knew him, knew his insecurities. He saw little value in himself as a person because he had been taught from birth that he was not worth anything except as a weapon. He knew she loved him, but sometimes he struggled to understand exactly what that meant, that she would do anything for him. If he were threatened by darkspawn, if he was in the Deep Roads surrounded by the beasts and she was the only one who could save him, she would head back into the deep for him. She would slaughter anything that got near her, be it darkspawn or giant spider or deep stalker or a damn nug. And she would be an utter wreck for weeks once she finally breathed the open air again, but she would do it for him. There was no other cause in all of Thedas that could make her go underground again, but she would do it for him. She told him that, once, after a particularly difficult contract. He’d been hurt, weakened by a poisoned arrow, and she’d thrown herself in front of him. He’d asked her why in the Void she would do such a thing, and she’d told him that she would gladly return to The Pit to save him. He hadn’t said a word for hours afterwards, just thinking about the implications of what she said and how deeply she’d meant it.

The look he gave her now was tender and loving and just a bit surprised. He probably would always be surprised by her love. She would enjoy surprising him for the rest of their lives. She smiled, just a little. “The Dread Wolf won’t share his plans, but I believe what he told us in that dream. I really do believe that he can restore the elven people to glory. And when he comes to us here, I’m going to have him remove my Vallaslin.”

“What?” Zevran cried, shocked. With gentle fingers, he traced the golden lines that marked her for Ghilan’nain. “But this… I know what it is to your people, what it means.”

“So do I,” Kahlia interjected. “But a rite of passage should never involve slave markings. My people will reclaim the best of our past, not the worst. Fen’Harel has promised that there will be no slavery. I need my freedom, too.”

Zevran kissed her forehead gently, then her lips. “Wherever you lead, my love, I will follow,” he murmured against her skin. Then he led her to their new bed in their new life, his touch inviting intimacy without demanding anything.

 

* * *

 

“Mahariel! Mahariel!” The cry came from within the throne room of the castle Kahlia had learned was called Sa’amal’uan. She looked up from gathering her evening’s meal, frowning. Only members of Clan Sabrae should know that name, and Kahlia had left them all behind a lifetime ago.

She turned in time to see Zevran intercept a small, familiar form before it crashed into her. With eyes gone wide as saucers, Kahlia looked over the petite, dark-haired shape of her oldest friend.

“Merrill?” she whispered, shocked. The elf in question grinned, the wide expression tugging at familiar lines of Vallaslin. With as much of a smile as Kahlia could ever manage since The Pit, she embraced the young mage. It was both a shock and a pleasure to feel the other woman’s familiar embrace. To have back a single thing from before she became a Grey Warden was comforting but somehow also frightening.

“When Alifalon told me that you were here, I didn’t believe her at first,” Merrill said in her usual nervous rush, her voice thick and her face buried in Kahlia’s shoulder. “I know she’s Amelan here and has no reason to lie to me, but I’ve thought for so long that you were dead! Ashalle and Keeper Merethari attended your funeral and received King Alistair’s blessings and gifts to the clan on your behalf.”

“Oh, Merrill,” Kahlia whispered as her eyes filled with tears. Emotions she had thought destroyed by The Pit were building in her gut. Guilt made its first appearance in nearly a decade, pinching her with regret for not writing to her friend. She had heard, though carefully collected whispers, that Merrill had been cast out of their clan for using blood magic and trying to restore the eluvian that had tainted Kahlia and Tamlen with the Blight. Yes she had never thought to try to contact the girl.

“Where have you been?” Merrill asked, finally pulling back far enough to look into Kahlia’s much-changed face. And yet her eyes seemed to skip right over the new scars as if they weren’t even there. “All anyone knows is that you were recruited by Fen’Harel, same as any of us, and arrived just this afternoon. What happened? Why didn’t you come home?” For the first time, a hint of hurt crept into Merrill’s soft, unsure voice, and Kahlia’s guilt pinched harder.

“It wasn’t that simple,” she said quietly, and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. When Merrill reached for her again, Zevran intercepted the touch. He often did that, protecting her from things that might trigger her panic or flashbacks. He frequently stopped others from touching her.

As smooth as ever, Zev turned the defensive move into a distraction and kissed Merrill’s fingertips. She blushed up to her hairline.

“We have not been properly introduced,” he said in his most suave tone, still bent over Merrill’s hand. Kahlia took the opportunity he was giving her to collect herself. “My name is Zevran Arainai. You must be Merrill of Clan Sabrae. My dear Kahlia has told me much about you.” She hadn’t, actually, said much about Merrill, but Zev followed the whispers she collected and drew his own conclusions. He knew the rumors and stories as well as she did, and had likely looked into Merrill’s background, as well.

“O-oh. Thank y-you,” Merrill stammered, flustered by Zevran’s attentions. Most people who were treated to the full force of his charm reacted that way. He’d told Kahlia once, long ago, that he had loved the way she had never fallen for his easy charm. He had liked that he had to work to woo her, had found it far more rewarding on many levels than simply batting his eyes with a smile at whomever he wished to bed.

Finally in control of herself, Kahlia placed her hand over Zevran’s. He immediately released Merrill in favor of lacing his fingers with hers. She wasn’t jealous, knew the distraction for what it was. He knew that she took his hand to let him know that she was alright again. But to outsiders who didn’t know what was happening, she appeared to be the jealous lover. That was fine with her. “Leave the poor girl be, Zev,” she said chidingly, playing her part to keep her dignity. “Merrill is too innocent for your teasing.”

“I am not!” Merrill protested. Kahlia raised a brow, to which Merrill flushed and fidgeted. “I met someone,” she said softly, defensively. “A-a pirate. From Rivain.” Kahlia’s other brow went up, and Merrill ducked her head. “She’s a good person. She taught how to win at cards, and always gave me back whatever she won from me when she cheated. We were… very close. We still are, really. I write to her all the time.”

Kahlia managed a small smile. “I’m very happy for you, Merrill,” she said sincerely, and clasped her friend’s hand. Then, because she knew she couldn’t avoid the subject any longer, she told the short version of her tragic story.

“As for where I’ve been,” she began after taking a deep, steadying breath and squeezing Zevran’s hand to remind herself that he was with her, “the darkspawn took me when I killed the archdemon. I was underground for about six years.” Merrill gasped in shock and her eyes flickered across Kahlia’s many scars, the ones she hadn’t seemed to notice before. When she reached out to touch the hand-shaped burns around Kahlia’s neck, Zevran intercepted the touch again but didn’t bother to make it seem like something else.

Merrill swallowed visibly, her eyes on Zevran’s hand gripping her wrist in silent warning. Unlike the Merrill Kahlia had known long ago with their clan, she didn’t pry or say anything more on the subject at all.

“So are you the assassin?” Merrill asked Zevran, tugging gently out of his grip. “The one hired to kill Mahariel? But you failed and ended up fighting for her, instead.”

“Yes, that was I,” Zevran sighed dramatically. “Sadly, all history will remember of me was my single, solitary failed mission.” He pressed a hand over his heart, the picture of dejection and offended pride. Kahlia snorted, and his lips twitched in a slight smile, betraying his act. Merrill giggled.

“The stories also talk about how handsome you are,” she quipped, seemingly to soothe his wounded pride. She glanced at him sideways, not quite flirtatiously but edging that direction. “I wasn’t there when you met Hawke,” she said, “but Isabela told me all about you.”

“Ah, dear, sweet Isabela,” Zevran crooned, his expression dreamy. “Is she your pirate mistress, then? I had wondered. I must say, you do not seem her type.” Merrill giggled again.

“Not normally, no,” she agreed. “We were friends for years before anything happened. But she loves me, and I love her, so that’s all that’s matters.” She shrugged as if it were obvious. Kahlia smiled a little, pleased for her friend. She remembered the insatiable pirate captain from Denerim. She’d taught Kahlia a few duelists’ tricks after the two women and Zev had spent a few hours below deck, so to speak. Those were easier times, when the problems Kahlia faced were far more straightforward.

“She says good things about you, you know,” Merrill said, startling Kahlia out of her thoughts. Her eyes narrowed at her friend’s tone and the way she looked at Zevran from beneath her lashes. “Many good things.” That was definitely a suggestion, and Kahlia was about to voice her objections when Zev beat her to it.

“Ah, I’m afraid not,” he said easily, his fingers tightening around Kahlia’s. “You see, not even the Dread Wolf himself could convince me to stray from my dear golden fire. He did try to convince me to use certain wiles on his behalf to gather information. I told him I’d shove a fistful of sand up his godly rectum, first.” Kahlia chuckled at that.

“He did, too,” she confirmed. “You should have seen his godly face.”

“I’m so sorry!” Merrill cried, aghast. “I didn’t realize you were…” She trailed off, her eyes flicking to their clasped hands. “The stories don’t say that you two are together, and Isabela didn’t mention it either. Forgive me?” Merrill was so obviously distressed that Kahlia couldn’t help but soften.

“I doubt Isabela knew,” she admitted. “It’s alright, Merrill. Come, eat with us. Tell me how you’ve been. Maybe explain more of this whole business with Fen’Harel.” Merrill grinned and complied, chattering away happily, and Kahlia was very happy to have part of her old life back, even in such a new form.


End file.
